


Jump

by Attasee



Series: The Mattress Chronicles [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bedrooms, Blow Jobs, M/M, Nerves, Not Beta Read, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Panic Attacks, Possessive Derek, Tight Pants, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a mess, a lying liar and gets his 'stalker' on. Or tries too. Except for some reason he doesn't make it out of his bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jump

**Author's Note:**

> This is in two parts. I'm jumping between pov's mid way. Part one is up first and it's Stiles. Somehow Derek seems to get the sexy time stuff.

Stiles stifles a yawn and pushes his bedroom curtains to one side so there is a gap. Peering out through the open window he scans the empty road and garden then releases the material until it hangs still once more.

He’s tired today, more so than usual, his body is aching; doubly with a lack of sleep and the effects of a ten hour shift lugging new mattresses around. 

Slowly turning, Stiles adjusts the leather desk chair stolen from his father’s office then falls into the empty space.

So… technically?

He might have lied to Scott a little about the sex part. He’d been so caught up in the moment, more excited than he ever had been that Suit Guy, aka the millionaire man, with broad shoulders, a big fancy house, wooden floors and a residence in the Keys would want him, that he got carried away.

Had he had actual sex with Suit Guy?

Technically no.

There was no doubt it had been close, Stiles had jizzed all over the guys custom built kitchen cabinet for Christ sake, but as for full on sex? 

No

Not at all.

It was a lie, however many times he tries to convince himself otherwise.

And why had that been? The question has been taking up space in his brain for the past few days, ever since he’d pulled up his pants, and ran out of that custom built kitchen so fast his heart beat only managed to catch up an hour later. He hardly remembers the drive back to the store either, his emotions flipping from pure terror to elation in a matter of seconds. He has thanked the Jedi Masters multiple times he reached Scott during a high point. God knows the reaction he may have received jumping into Scott’s bedroom with an expression of pure terror on his face.

Stiles can’t mentally process the explaining that would have taken.

Or wants to either.

No, Suit Guy hadn't taken advantage that Stiles was sure of.

Yes, Stiles had wanted it.

Yet at that precise moment, sitting alone in his bedroom Stiles still can’t explain why like the bottom has been ripped out of his world. Or can he? Because it was quite obvious to any untrained Stilinski that the reason Mr Derek Hale had not been in contact... was because he regretted their (monumental) fumble in the kitchen.

“Yeah that’ll be it,” Stiles says to himself as he leans back in the desk chair, the leather creaking under his body weight. “That's exactly why.”

To distract himself from other stupid thoughts (and the reliving of the whole ridiculous seduction scene in the shop for the twelvety thousandth time) Stiles opens the laptop on his desk, clicks on his preferred browser logo and hits the links for a few of his favourite sites.

Tonight they keep him interested for all of five minutes - a combination of annoyingly happy photos Allison has uploaded of her and Scott, and Buzzfeed news stories filling up his Facebook timeline don’t have him distracted.

He even briefly considers looking at porn but then decides against it.

How could he possibly look at porn sites when he was still floating on a sexual high from a five minute hand job?

At that thought Stiles slams the lid of the laptop down making a growling sound as he does do.

Maybe, he should just back to house, walk up to the door, get past that butler / secretary guy and demand to see the man who has blatantly ignored him for two...no…three days. Maybe that would get an answer?

Set his mind at ease?

Or maybe not.

Tapping lightly on the keyboard Stiles attempts to distract himself once more. By now he really has no idea what he is looking at.  

He clicks on random webpages frowning at the content.

Facebook.

Twitter.

Tumblr.

Beds.

Mattresses.

Sales.

New York.

Top to Tail.

He huffs when he realizes where his aimless clicking has ended up.

Every. Single. Time.

“Fuck.”

Stiles chews on his lip.

Why can’t he get away from the guy?

From the thing? The sex? Even the way his dick had been held.

Why is he putting himself through all this?

Rubbing his fingers through his hair Stiles laces his fingers together at the back of his neck and exhales harshly. He needs to shut this shit down. He needs to go Suit Guy and tell him to get out of his head.

“That's exactly what I should do,” Stiles declares to no one. Releasing his hands, he stabs his finger into his desk to emphasize the point even more. “I’m gonna go over there and get answers. Stiles Stilinski doesn't have ‘use once and throw away’ stamped on his butt cheek. Not yet anyway.”

Decision made Stiles jumps up and makes his way over to his closet. He strips the work clothes from his body and throws the bundle of blue material into the corner. Making his way towards his bathroom he needs to wash some of the dirt and dust away that sits permanently on his skin.

He should shower just in case something should happen.

Something big…

Something that makes the earth move…

Something that…

No.  Stiles doesn't dare finish the thought. He shakes his head to clear quickly. “No. I’m going to go call him out.”

Turning on the hot water Stiles wets his hands so he can run his fingers through his locks to tame them slightly. He takes his time soaping up his hands, arms and face; no he does not shave (out of principle) but instead scrubs at the scruff on his chin until it is clean. Stiles then uses deodorant , the toilet, repeating the whole hand washing routine over again.

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Stiles reaches up and turns his neck to one side, something he has been reluctant to do. The three marks the guy left have faded slightly, yet to Stiles they are still as bright and as sensitive as the night they had been made. 

He runs his finger over the one located under his Adams apple making himself flinch.

“Shit,” he says sharply at his reflection and randomly thanks his dad the collars on his work shirt are high enough that the marks can’t be seen.

Pushing himself away from the bathroom counter Stiles reaches for the light cord, tugs at it gently and plunges himself into semi darkness. Having done it a thousand times before Stiles then easily finds his way back into his bedroom by touch only.

His closet is too his left, the wooden door easy to slide. Reaching inside he fumbles with the small closet light cord he knows is right in front of his face.

What does one wear for a home invasion?

All black or mix it up with a bit of color?

Standing back, Stiles stares at the rail of clothes, the pale light reflecting off the metal rail. Suit Guy had liked the tight pants there was no doubt about that fact. In fact Stiles can feel the way his ass had been cupped and grabbed tightly, the sensation even now sending a shiver down his spine.

“Okay, good, tight it is,” he says, going for the same pair. In the half light Stiles slips his feet into the tight material, pulling it up over his thighs. Instinctively he then reaches for a white t-shirt he knows is clean and freshly laundered then finishes the outfit with a bright red hoodie.

“You look good,” a voice says suddenly. “But you really don’t need to go to so much trouble.”

Stiles jumps and hears a scream that possibly could be him, but he isn’t sure. All he knows is that his body is now frozen solid with fear. “Holy shit?” he says quietly because well… _holy shit_!

“I’m so glad you went with those jeans,” the voice says and Stiles knows whose voice it is but he isn’t ‘going there’ just yet. “I like those jeans.”  

“Are you fucking serious?” Stiles whispers finally. He hasn’t turned around yet, his body refusing to for some reason.

There is a chuckle in response.

At that Stiles forces his body to move. The room is still dark but the small amount of moonlight forcing its way through the curtains allows him to make out the familiar shape of a certain man.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks quickly. Yes, there are other questions he could have asked first – like how the fuck did you get in here – but that one is the one he going with.

Stiles can now see the dark figure shift slightly at his words. He can see the man’s thick shoulders, ones he had clung onto only days before, seemingly taking up lots of space in his bedroom. It shocks him slightly that even in the half-light the mere outline of the man’s body does something too him. In the shop the suit and power it represented had rolled towards Stiles sending shivers down his spine and here in the dark it is having the same effect.

Stiles speaks again, this time there is a little wobble to his voice, “what the fuckkk are you doing herrre?” he says slowly in an attempt to control his breathing. It sped up the moment he realized who was standing in his bedroom, his heart ready to burst through his chest. “How didddd you gettt in?”

For a long time there is silence.

Nothing.

Stiles can hear Suit Guy breathing softly but nothing else.

“You made me jump,” Stiles whispers. “Why?” It’s a single word that covers many many many other questions. 

“Because I can.”

The arrogance of the answer almost floors Stiles but not quite. “You broke into my house. How?”

“You left your window open.”

That reply throws Stiles momentarily. Had he? Maybe? Intentionally? “Me leaving the window open is not an invitation for you to climb in.”

“I beg to differ.

Stiles snorts in (false) disbelief.

“You’ve left it open for the last three nights.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Stiles counters. "Its been warm dickhead."

“Why did you run the other night?”

The question throws Stiles a little; he wants to discuss why Suit Guy is currently stood in his bedroom, not explaining why he had run away from him a few days earlier.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you run?”

“I..erm…”

“Did I scare you?”

Stiles shakes his head. It’s a stupid thing to do because he knows the man can’t see him but fuck it.  “What do you care?” he says before he can stop himself. He sounds pathetic and needy like some fourteen year old girl but Stiles can’t seem to help what’s coming out of his mouth. “You didn’t exactly come looking for me did you Derek?” he replies using the guys name for the first time.

“That was-”

Stiles cuts Derek off with a slice of his hand through the air, “No don’t answer, let me guess? Not your fault?” Stiles growls, ignoring the fact that somehow Derek has managed to get close enough to him without making a noise. Instead he attempts to control his breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out. 

“It was my fault.”

_Right._

“I should have chased after you.”

_Right._

“Would you have stopped if I’d have caught up with you?”

Stiles shrugs.

“I suspect you would have driven faster. Or tried too.”

_Possibly._

“I pushed you too fast. What happened in the kitchen should never have happened. I wanted it too much. You where there and -.”

“Easy?”

“…no… not at all…" Derek says pausing, "....I couldn’t help myself.”

_Oh._

_Right._

_Fuck._


	2. Jumping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's knees finally see some action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this. I've struggled with this chapter due to illness and hospital visits. I've added a 3rd chapter to Jump because I don't think the action is quite finished (damn you Stiles). 
> 
> It's not been beta'd so all mistakes are mine. I've changed the tags.

Something is crawling under Derek Hale’s skin working its way around his body in such way that he can feel the sensation from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes.  

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and attempts to calm himself.

One.

Two.

Three - “…no… not at all… I couldn’t help myself,” he hears himself saying out loud. _Damn._

Taking another deep breathe Derek tries to focus himself once more.

In.

Out.

And repeat.

It’s ridiculous. It really is. It’s ridiculous that one person can affect him the way Stiles Stilinski does but Derek felt the pull of an unknown force the instant he had stepped across the state line just a few months ago. That pull had dragged him in and remained on his peripheral vision, just out of reach, until the moment he had walked into that damn bed shop for the first time in an attempt to scope out the competition.

Shaking his head Derek tries again to clear his head. He needs too, tries to, forces it, but even with the carpeted bedroom floor he hears Stiles take a step towards him.

Now the heat from from Stiles’ body is rolling towards him like a tropical tsunami.

One.

Two.

Three.

“I asked what the fuck you were doing in my bedroom.” Stiles is angry but Derek stays silent. Instead he attempts to switch on his business brain. His famous cool, calm and collected persona that works so well with New York’s rich and famous ‘should’ keep him in check.

_Should._

Instinctively Derek goes to straighten his shirt cuffs then realizes he isn’t wearing his usual business attire. An Alexandra McQueen three piece suit was never designed in a way to jump across two roofs and scale a rose trellis.

Unless, of course, you are James Bond.

“Did you hear me?” Stiles’ says sharply. His voice is raised and panicky.

Derek nods his head. Stiles can see him now. If his own eyes have adjusted to the darkness then Stiles’ will have done too. He answers the boy carefully, “I did. I heard you.”

“And?”

Now Stiles is almost in Derek’s face. His breathe mixing with Derek’s.

“Like I said, because I can,” Derek replies.  His words will be a red rag to a bull. His own arrogance is legendary after all. He is renowned for goading his competitors, gazumping deals and twisting things so they are in his favor.

But this so-called stock boy?

He knows this twenty one year old tight jean wearing hurricane could be his biggest gamble yet.

“You’re an arrogant fucker,” Stiles replies and Derek couldn’t agree more and nods his head, a smirk forming on his lips. “You climb up the side of my house, jump in through my window and what? Expect what?”

What indeed?

Unfortunately Derek doesn’t have time to answer or develop any coherent reply. He only has time to quickly admit to himself that he may have made a mistake of undertaking a home invasion before Stiles fists his t-shirt.

“Your fucking eyebrows do things to me.”

His eyebrows?

“The way you swaggered into my dad’s shop, scoping us out…”

He swaggered? _(Maybe a little bit – he was wearing his best suit)_

“The way you took me around that show room, bouncing on mattresses and choosing bed frames? Then at your house? The whole flipping me around, then getting me off on your custom made kitchen cabinet?”

(Isaac had cursed all night at that) “What about it?”

“I like it.”

Derek smiles to himself. Stiles might be an angry stock boy but Derek  has him cornered.

Game.

Set.

Match.

“I hate that I like it, but I like it,” he hears Stiles snarl.

“Really now?” Derek replies with another smirk.

“Ye-ah,” Stiles answers with a pant. 

“Is that why you were on your way over to mine?”

“What?! How did you?”

Now it’s Derek time to move. To take control. His movements need to be smooth, calm, and ever so slightly restrained.  

Taking Stiles’ forearm he smooths his hand up a well-defined bicep and around the back of Stiles neck so he can press his fingers into the suction marks he left there two nights earlier. Hearing the immediate hitch in Stiles breathing tells him he has done the right thing.

Ignoring the ‘motherfucker’ Stiles snarls in his direction with an internal chuckle, Derek then feeds his other arm around the boy’s narrow waist until he holds it securely.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Derek whispers and for the first time in his life he is trying not to come across as aggressive or arrogant.

He really is.

“Just do it, just fucking do it,” Stiles replies and Derek can hear the need in his voice.  

The kiss that follows is slow at first. Real slow. Derek drags his lips and tongue across Stiles’ eliciting a small moan that makes Derek deeper the action ever so slightly.

Stiles tastes good, he’s obviously cleaned his teeth beforehand and Derek can feel his lips tingling with the minty residue left behind.

“Oh boy…” he hears Stiles say. At least he thinks he hears Stiles says something, the sound is muffled and throaty. Instead Derek ignores the noises being made and pulls Stiles in closer. His hands, which are probably a little cold slide down Stiles back cupping the globes of his ass. He squeezes both sides gently.

 “Oh god…” Stiles gasps. The sound turns into a hiss when Derek pulls Stiles towards him and rocks his hips against the tight material of Stiles’ jeans. “You fucker…”

Derek chuckles to himself. “I thought I was an arrogant fucker,” he replies rocking his hips against Stiles’ a second time.

“You are. You’re an arrogant… bossy fucker who thinks he can…Oooooof”

Derek pulls Stiles even closer, cutting him off. His fingers have found their way to the belt tabs on Stiles’ jeans. In a small show of strength he hooks them into the loops and begins walking Stiles back towards the bedroom wall.

“That’s…”

Derek doesn’t allow Stiles to finish. He pushes his tongue into the warm of Stiles mouth and oh fucking hell even Derek can admit it’s good.

Real good. 

By now any resistance Stiles had been showing (which let’s face it wasn’t much) is gone. Derek can feel his hands working their way up the contours of his body, forcing their way under the leather jacket.

“Off. Get it off.” Derek hears him say between kisses.

“So bossy.”

This time Stiles doesn’t answer and simply pushes at the material on Derek’s shoulder. After small show of resistance Derek allows the garment to fall to the floor pooling around his legs.

“I hope that wasn’t expensive. Fuck knows what’s on the floor.”

Silently cursing at the thought of $600 worth of leather lying on a bedroom floor Derek shakes his head indicating a ‘no’ then kicks the material to one side.

“Bullshit.”

“Shut up Stiles.”

Sucking in a breathe Derek pushes further into Stiles personal space. Releasing Stiles hip he moves his hand around to the front of the tight trousers and pushes against the hard bulge that is there, tracing the outline with his fingers.

Stiles hisses in response.

Good.

Excellent.

Taking the noises Stiles is now making as a good sign Derek slowly parts the metal button on the waistband and then lowers the zip down. His fingers graze the hard outline of Stiles’ cock once more.

“Oh god.”

Good.

Excellent.

Releasing Stiles mouth Derek smiles softly against his lips. “You good with this?” he asks. Derek’s knows that Stiles is, but he needs to make sure.

Stiles replies with a quick nod. His face his flushed, his lips parted, his hair ruffled, hanging over his forehead.

Derek smiles at the sight.

Yeah, this is good.

Reaching for Stiles his hands land on the bulge which is now up front and centre. He fingers the hard length slowly through the bright purple material of the Stiles’ briefs, gently stroking at the surface until he reaches the elastic waist band. He ignores the small gasp he hears as his fingers pull at the material, hook themselves inside and work their way down tracing the soft skin as they go.

“Too slow… it’s too slow.”

It is, but Derek doesn’t care. This time he is taking his time.

“Shush,” he says quietly into Stiles’ ear as he places a series of kisses on Stiles’ neck. He gently mouths at the soft skin nibbling at the junction between his shoulder and neck. He’s never had a kink for biting someone before but Stiles pushes at his limits. He can think of no reason not to sink his teeth into the tender skin and leave a permanent mark alongside the existing fading marks from their first meeting.

_Maybe next time?_

_Without doubt._

Pushing all thoughts of next time out of his head, Derek delves deeper. Finding Stiles’ cock he quickly begins to run his fingers up the smooth warm skin.

“Ughhgghgh.”

“This okay?” he says through gritted teeth whilst placing another kiss on Stiles’ neck. It’s taking all his strength to hold back. He wants Stiles so much but he needs to be slow. He has to be. He can be.

“Yeah, fuckin’ A,” Stiles pants out cutting off Derek’s thoughts.

Not skipping a beat Derek moves his hand to base of Stiles’ hard cock. He fists it gently, squeezing at the hard flesh until he hears a soft moan escape Stiles’ mouth. His fingers work their way up gently pushing at the slit so slick liquid leaks out the end.

Derek suddenly has an overwhelming desire to taste Stiles, something he hasn't done in ages. The need to drop too his knees for a guy has never appealed to him; that is until now.

Fisting Stiles’ cock, Derek places a kiss on Stiles’ lips, and makes the final drop to knees in one swift motion.

“What the fuck?”

“Shush.”

Stiles’ skin is smooth and Derek takes his first taste of the boy with his tongue. Licking from the base to the tip he sucks the end into his mouth without skipping a beat.

“Holy shit!”

Matching the rhythm of his mouth to his moving hand Derek soon begins to feel Stiles pushing up against him almost fucking into his mouth.

“Oh my god, you gotta stop…” Stiles cries out desperately, his hands tangling into Derek’s hair.

Derek ignores him and continues, feeling the shaft swell even more between his lips.

The first splash of warm fluid to hit his mouth takes Derek by surprise. It's been a long time since he has done this to anyone but for some reason he doesn't feel the revulsion he felt in the past.

In fact he laps it up.

All of it.

With a final swipe of his tongue Derek lifts his head to look at the hot mess staring down at him.

“Oh my god, you… you…” Stiles pants out. Somehow in the dim light Derek can see Stiles’ eyes are dark and hooded, his voice rough with emotion. “You need to let me…” he says through gasps.

Derek shakes his head. Grabbing Stiles’ hips he steadies himself then works his way back up Stiles body not letting go of the warm flesh for a minute. When they are at eye level he places a light kiss on Stiles’ mouth and waits for Stiles to catch his breathe.

“You’re still an arrogant bastard.” 

“It’s what I do.”

Stiles snorts softly at him, “oh my God you don’t stop do you? That was… shit… I don’t even know what that was.”

“Do you want me to stop being an arrogant bastard?” Derek replies with a chuckle.

This time it's Stiles who shakes his head, “No, but next time, you think we can make it to a bed?”


End file.
